


Broship

by hypermoyashi



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Apocrypha Spoilers, Bonding, Camelot spoilers, Canon Disabled Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Families of Choice, Gen, Mordred and Bedivere fight then bond, Swearing, fem!Ritsuka - Freeform, minor ensemble cast, minor/background Ritsuka/Mash, mostly - Freeform, she/her Mordred, they/them Astolfo, they/them Enkidu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26782297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypermoyashi/pseuds/hypermoyashi
Summary: Mordred is summoned into Chaldea. This, of course, creates some strife between herself and the silver knight himself, Bedivere.Nothing a little something Mordred liked to call "avoiding her problems at all costs" couldn't fix.
Relationships: Bedivere | Saber & Mordred | Saber of Red
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Broship

**Author's Note:**

> Artoria comes up briefly in conversation when Mordred and Bedivere discuss her, and they'll both be using masculine terms for her, but for individual reasons. Bedi because he hasn't been clued in yet, and Mordred for slightly more complicated reasons I won't get into.

The last place Mordred expected to be summoned was Chaldea.

She’d gone through Grail Wars in the past—it’d be stupid to think she hadn’t, though her memories of those times were foggy at best. She knew the grail was meant to supply her with knowledge, but when she opened her eyes after having manifested in a room that shone with technology, evidence of humanity’s advancement since her time, she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

Before her stood a girl with bright hair and brighter eyes. She smiled. “Hello, Mordred.”

“So you know my name,” Mordred huffed. “Are you my master?”

“Yes! My name is Ritsuka Fujimaru. It’s nice to meet you again,” Mordred’s new master said.

Again, huh? Modred couldn’t recall ever meeting this person, so there must be some sort of interesting story behind that. “Sure, same here.”

Mordred hopped off the platform she’d been standing on, bringing her to the same height as Ritsuka. Her armor hung heavily from her frame, but a quick survey of their surroundings revealed only a room with smooth walls and no one else. Her new master had a relaxed air to her, as well, so Mordred doubted there’d be a need to fight anytime soon.

She thought about dismissing her armor for the sake of comfort, but she shot the idea down. For now, she’d rather keep it on.

“You don’t remember London?” Ritsuka asked, tilting her head.

“I know of the city,” Mordred replied.

Ritsuka nodded and hummed thoughtfully. She started walking, and Mordred found herself falling in step next to her. “I see, I see. I’ll need to catch you up, then. Or would you rather meet everyone else first? Or maybe a tour of Chaldea?”

“...Explanation first, please.” Mordred really felt like punching something already.

-/-/-

The situation was rather complicated. It actually took Ritsuka the better part of an hour to explain everything to Mordred, and the explanation contained a lot of magical mumbo jumbo that Mordred had only come to expect from Merlin at this point. Honestly, she didn’t understand most of it, but she didn’t need to. She got the basics.

Someone tried to destroy humanity by altering history, and Ritsuka traveled with her servants to the places where history was altered to prevent that destruction. The servants she summoned lived here in Chaldea—quite the step up from the Grail Wars Mordred was used to, even if the stakes were a bit higher.  
Ritsuka Fujimaru… Mordred was a little impressed. How was she able to support so many servants? According to her, there were at least ten other servants contracted to her, including a demi-servant named Mash. Ritsuka didn’t look the part of a master of magecraft, so maybe the technology at Chaldea had something to do with it?

Either way…

“And these are the sleeping quarters!” Ritsuka announced, showing off a rather unimpressive set of doors. “Um, let’s see… I think there’s an empty room to the very back. Would you like it?”

“Sure.” Mordred didn’t exactly care. She’d seen about a dozen doors at this point, and they all looked the same. All the halls looked the same. Really, did these people not know how to build with anything but featureless white halls? The only interesting thing she’d seen up to this point was a hall that happened to have a window, but even her excitement at that was dulled by the fact that the only thing she could see through the window was an endless snowstorm.

This place seemed like it was actively trying to make her go stir crazy, and she’d barely spent any time here at all.

“...I guess that about sums it up,” Ritsuka said, almost surprising Mordred. She thought that would never end. “What now? I still have some time before I need to help Da Vinci with something! Would you like to meet everyone else? I’m not sure where they are at the moment, but I’m sure we can track them down for you.”

Mordred crossed her arms. She didn’t exactly like the idea of being paraded around and having to meet a bunch of other Heroic Spirits at once. Though, there was one concern that was chief among the others… “That depends. You said you have multiple servants… Is one of them the King of Knights?”

“Oh! You mean the original King Arthur? No, that servant has never come to Chaldea,” Ritsuka said. “Our current roster includes Karna, Enkidu, Astolfo, Sherlock, Okita, Da Vinci, David, Bedivere, Hans, Euryale, and Mash, of course. So there should be only one person you might recognize…”

“Bedivere,” Mordred repeated.

Well, of all the Knights of the Round Table to be stuck with, at least it was the one she was least scared of. Really, she could wipe the floor with that coward if she wanted, so she shouldn’t have problems. If he objected to her presence here, she’d just kick his ass. It wasn’t exactly a secret that he was the weakest of the knights.

Ritsuka pursed her lips. “Hm… Is that going to be a problem? I can make sure you two don’t end up on missions together, but you’ll probably bump into him at some point… Though Chaldea is pretty big…”

“I’ll hold off on meeting everyone, thanks,” she said.

“Okay, that’s fine! Let me know if you need anything?”

Mordred scoffed. “I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“...Alriiiiight.” With a cheeky smile that made Mordred feel a bit like punching her new master, Ritsuka left down the hall.

With her gone, Mordred made her way to the door she’d pointed out. The door slid open on its own, and Mordred frowned at that. She’d have to figure out how to lock it, but she didn’t want to ask for help on something so simple…

When she stepped inside, she was met with a plain white room. The walls were like smooth porcelain, and the only features were a simple bed and a desk that seemed to sprout directly from the wall. A few indentations in the walls made for shelves, but everything was bare.

Mordred sighed and let herself fall onto the bed. The mattress sank dangerously with the weight of her armor, but without being able to lock the door, she refused to remove it yet.

Not yet, not with…

Breathing in deeply, she closed her eyes. But she did not sleep.

-/-/-

Chaldea, for a facility meant to prevent the incineration of humanity, was a pretty boring place so far. Ritsuka, along with the demi-servant Mash who also happened to be her girlfriend, often came to drag Mordred out of her room, but even if they hadn’t, Mordred wouldn’t have stayed long. The room was too boring.

Sparring with Mash was fun, at least. Mordred recognized the Heroic Spirit that dwelled within her, and he was probably one of the more palatable Knights of the Round Table. Plus, it helped that his ego was pretty much gone, leaving only remnants in Mash.

But, as she discovered, Chaldea was in a bit of an off period in terms of action, so there wasn’t much to do but wait around. Which was. Very boring.

At the very least, nothing beyond the bland monotony had gotten on her nerves yet.

That is, until she almost walked into someone almost a head taller than her as she stepped out of the simulator.

“Ah, pardon me…”

Well.

Mordred’s face immediately fixed itself into a scowl. It was without a doubt Bedivere that stood before her, but there was something… Different, but not quite so. It was strange. He wore an artificial arm, for one, which he used to only do for ceremonies. But there was also something far less obvious… Was it the eyes? Or the way he carried himself?

“So it’s the weakling,” Mordred finally settled on saying, her voice barely better than a growl. So much for her relatively good mood. “I’m surprised you’re even a Heroic Spirit, since you were just at the Round Table to fill the extra seat.”

“Mordred…” Ritsuka and Mash were behind her, since with the width of her armor, she was basically blocking the exit. Her master’s tone was warning and concerned.

...Of course she would favor him. Everyone seemed to, regardless of how weak and useless he was.

Mordred snorted and stepped to the side. “I get it, I get it. I’m gone.”

She expected to be stopped as she practically stormed off. It was something Bedivere would do, chasing after someone when he thought he’d slighted and offering empty, uncomprehending apologies. While… She hoped her master or Mash would follow, but neither of them did.

Well, whatever. They’d call her if there was a fight.

-/-/-

The next time she had the misfortune of running into Bedivere, it was when they passed one another in the hall. And of course, Bedivere changed course to walk next to her.

“What,” she snapped.

She hadn’t been watching his expressions closely, but he seemed unfazed by her hostility. “I wanted to apologize, Sir Mordred.” She had to force herself to keep her pace even. So he still talked to her like she was a knight, even after everything? “It seems that you are avoiding everyone, and I suspect it is because of me. I am prepared to limit my time with everyone and the simulator to a predictable extent, so if you wish to avoid me, you may do so without also avoiding everyone at Chaldea.”

“AAHHHHH, come on!” Suddenly, she rounded on him, her scowl fiercer than ever. “Do you have no backbone whatsoever?! Who asked you to be nice?! I thought you were my father’s most loyal dog, so you should hate me just like he does! Huh? What are you doing?”

Bedivere blinked, his eyes widened at her outburst. “Ah… My apologies. I was trying to help you feel more comfortable within Chaldea, but it seems I only managed to do the opposite…”

God, this was pissing her off!

Without thinking, she balled her fist and threw it.

She wasn’t putting her all into it. She didn’t think she’d need to—of the round table, Bedivere was the only one who could be considered a completely ordinary human. He was talented, even she would admit that, but no amount of talent could compare to the supernatural gifts that the rest of the knights enjoyed. She expected her punch to land with no problem, and that should be all it took to lay Bedivere flat on his back.

Except.

He caught it.

_He caught it._

Since when?!

Her fist trapped within the metal of his new artificial arm, she tried to wrench it free, but although his grip on her wasn’t painful, she couldn’t pull free until the third time she pulled. He might have let go, which was smart given that she was about two seconds from planting her boot between his legs.

Wisely, he stepped out of her range as red sparks danced over her armor. Her sword materialized in her hands, thrumming power in her hands.

“Sir Mordred,” Bedivere said, his tone warning, “this behavior is unbecoming of a Knight of the Round Table.”

“Yeah, so fucking what?!”

“You wish to cause your master trouble? What of the staff?” Bedivere finally snapped, in his own way. Trust her, this was about as aggressive as he got. “If we fight here, do you think there will be no damage to Chaldea? Think of those you are burdening before acting.”

That finally got her to calm down. In reality, it wasn’t a true sense of calmness, but enough to breathe and let the electricity humming over her skin die off. Enough for her to rip her glove off and throw it at Bedivere’s face.

“I challenge you,” she spat.

Apparently, he was surprised enough to simply let the glove smack him in the face, but he had enough presence of mind to catch it before it fell to the floor. His eyes narrowed as he turned his focus back on Mordred. “You want… to fight me?”

“You heard me before.”

“...If you are determined, then I will accept.”

Mordred sneered. “So you do have some guts, huh? Right, let’s go.” She turned on a heel and started marching towards the simulator, the one place they could fight without destroying everything, provided they didn’t use their Noble Phantasms.

The clinking of metal against the floor told her Bedivere was following without complaint.

They arrived at the simulator after a long, silent walk. It only let Mordred fume, her steps growing more and more hurried the closer they drew to the simulator. When the doors to it slid open, she barely paid attention to the servants already sparring inside as she stormed in.

“I’m using the simulator,” she declared.

The servants slowed, and Mordred took the time to notice that it was Mash and… the green haired one. Enkidu? Maybe. The both of them slowed to stare at her, and golden chains dissipated.

“Then, another time, Mash?” Enkidu said, their voice soft.

Mash nodded, but her eyes were locked on Mordred and Bedivere. There was a small frown fixed on her features, and she’d yet to dismiss her shield as Enkidu had dismissed their chains. She knew something was up.

“Mordred, is something wrong?”

She clenched her fist. That was her master’s voice.

“Nothing,” she snapped. “Bedi and I are just sparring, right?” She’d heard the affectionate nickname before, but from her, it was nothing but sarcastic.

“...Sir Mordred has challenged me to a duel.”

...Snitch.

Figures, he always was an honors student at heart.

Ritsuka hummed, but thankfully, there was no apparent disapproval in her tone. “Are you alright with that, Bedi?”

“Yes, I am prepared,” he replied.

“Okay, then. As your master, I’ll be whistness,” Ritsuka proclaimed. “Mash, Enkidu, would you guys care to join me? If it’s Mordred, I’m worried I’ll get blown up…”

“I wouldn’t!”

Mash nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Senpai!” She almost skipped as she hurried to Ritsuka’s side, and smooth as she was, she linked their hands almost immediately.

“I don’t mind watching,” Enkidu said as they joined the two lovebirds, but unlike Mash, they kept a respectful distance from their master.

With the finalities finally out of the way, Mordred marched to the center of the simulator. Bedivere followed suit, and only now did he actually draw his blade. The scenery around them shifted—before it was a desert, but the bright rays of the sun were replaced by a starry night sky. The ground remained mostly unchanged, except for the greenery that burst up from the soil.

It was all fake, she knew. An illusion created by technology or magecraft or whatever. They could’ve just kept the fake scenery to the desert, since it wouldn’t have made a difference.

“Okay!” Ritsuka shouted enthusiastically. “Begin, you guys!”

Mordred didn’t need another word.

She charged and brought Clarent down without a second thought, putting all of her considerable strength behind the strike. Perhaps she might have held back against Bedivere back in the day, but if he’d grown a spine, then she wanted to test his mettle.

She wasn’t disappointed. Despite little warning, Bedivere had managed to raise his blade to block the attack. The weapon was thin compared to Clarent, and with red sparks dancing over her armor and sword, it seemed like it should bend beneath the weight and force of Mordred’s blow.

He then fended off the second and third attack, before a quick backstep disengaged him from the onslaught altogether.

Her mana burst skill going into full effect, she leapt forward and swung Clarent anew at him. Predictably, he blocked again, and Mordred took the chance to pull back and swing her armored leg at him.

This time, he evaded the attack entirely by jumping out of range again, and it made Mordred narrow her eyes. Was he using some sort of mana burst skill, as well? That speed wasn’t too impressive, but it also went beyond what a normal human should be capable of. Bedivere should have no such abilities. At least, not the Bedivere she knew.

But there was no other way to be fast enough to dodge her blows while she herself was using mana burst, other than some kind of ability.

“You’ve gotten awfully good at running away,” she spat, red lightning dancing over her blade as she focused her mana into it. “What, can’t fight like a knight?”

“...I can see your point,” Bedivere admitted, annoyingly. Then, he had the audacity to add, “Very well. As a fellow knight, I will take your next attack head-on. I will not dodge again, but if I do, then let’s call this match a draw.”

He knew she was taunting him, and yet he seemed to have no qualms about walking straight into it. At the very least, that hadn’t changed about him.

“You think you, of all people, can take an attack of mine head-on?” Her face twisted into what was no doubt an uggly sneer. “Fine, then. Survive it, and it’s a draw. But if you dodge, I’m taking your head.”

The air practically thrummed with thunder now. Mordred wouldn’t hold back, not when anger boiled her blood and she wanted nothing more than to lash out at her father’s most loyal dog.

“Remember, you two! No Noble Phantasms, please!” Ritsuka called, effectively ruining the mood. “If you don’t listen, I’ll have to have Mash and Enkidu break up the fight!”

“Huh?” Mash blinked, then nodded. “R-Right!”

“...Understood.” Enkidu only smiled, like they actually liked the idea of joining in.

And suddenly, Mordred’s helmet was engaging, the mechanic sound of metal grinding against metal filling the room until her face was completely obscured by it. No one in the room seemed to know what to make of that, at least not until the lighting sparked from her died off. She strapped Clarent back to her back, ignoring the feel of eyes on her.

“If we can’t go all out,” she snapped, “then there’s no point. It’d just be boring.”

Bedivere seemed to sigh in relief, sheathing his own blade.

That was when Mordred charged again, aiming to plant her knee into his gut. It would have—should have—worked. Of all the knights, Bedivere had always been the simplest and the most trusting. The easiest to trick. No matter how many times Mordred used a dirty tick on him during a spar, he would always fall for it.

Right before her knee connected, she caught golden light out of the corner of her eye.

Metal crashed against metal, reverberating through her leg and shaking her to her very bones. She grit her teeth and pushed, but the metal wall of the prosthetic arm proved unyielding. It shone now, the light eerily familiar.

He’d blocked not with his sword, but with his arm.

She jumped back, allowing him to relax the stance he’d used to block her surprise attack.

“You’re not Bedivere,” she spat. “I don’t know what’s happened, but you’re not. Not the one I knew. The real Bedivere would’ve fallen for that.”

His eyes fell to the floor, all but confirming her accusations. “...I have no way to refute. What you say is indeed true—I am not the Bedivere you personally fought alongside while serving as one of the Knights of the Round Table. If thinking of me as a fake puts you at ease, then I have no objections.”

“A fake...” Mordred frowned. Who would want to impersonate Bedivere, of all people? Why not King Arthur, or Gawain, or Lancelot? “Whatever.”

Bedivere said nothing, simply hanging his head.

Weirdly, though… A part of her was relieved.

“...This has gotten complicated,” Ritsuka sighed. “Mo! How about I explain things? That may make it easier to understand.”

“Don’t bother,” she huffed. Finally, the sparks on her armor died completely. “I’m not interested in listening to whatever nonsense this is about. That’s not Bedivere, so it’s not my business.”

Not that it would be even if he was the true Bedivere.

“I’m leaving.”

No one stopped her as she stormed out.

-/-/-

If this Bedivere was a fake, he was a convincing one.

...She had said she wasn’t interested, but that was a statement made in the heat of the moment. Processing the information that someone who looked and acted exactly like someone you once knew, but it wasn’t actually them, was a lot to take in. In Mordred’s case, she said it both because of this and because frustration had been clouding her thoughts.

She was too proud to take back her words, but she was also too curious to leave it be. The more she thought about it, the less sense it made.

Servants were supposed to be a reflection of the heroic spirit, a manifestation of them. There were many ways for heroic spirits to be altered as they were manifested as servants, and it was also possible that different aspects or versions of the same heroic spirit could be summoned as well with enough fudging.

But a completely different Bedivere that seemed exactly like the one she knew?

Perhaps he was actually a caster or something? Using magic to make himself look like Bedivere?

There was only one mage that came to mind, but even Merlin wouldn’t come up with a scheme like that… Though come to think of it, she wasn’t sure he had a bar for how low he could sink, so it was still possible.

Still, Merlin had a friendlier relationship with Bedivere than most of the knights. Even he might hesitate to impersonate someone he was fond of. Maybe.

It was thoughts like these, twisting and thrashing around in her head, that had her nearly pulling her hair out in frustration. She wasn’t getting anywhere on her own, so she decided to simply investigate the matter herself.

So that was how she ended up tailing Bedivere when she thought she wouldn’t be caught.

And that was how she found herself watching him play cards with Mash, Ritsuka, and three servants she now knew as Okita, Karna, and Astolfo.

It was a mess of a game. Okita was almost always falling asleep, only waking up when Astolfo poked her for her turn, and Bedivere was depressingly slow on the draw. Mordred was pretty sure Astolfo was cheating and looking at the others’ cards, too. Karna looked far too dejected with his performance for a simple card game. Only Mash seemed to be taking the game seriously and doing decently, while Ritsuka simply watched the chaos without comment.

She peered around the corner with crossed arms, the helmet of her armor gone. Bedivere acted pretty much as she remembered. He was polite to the point of it being painful, and he was quick to agree to any request posed of him. That was no doubt how he’d gotten pulled into this card game by someone else (read: Astolfo, probably) despite little knowledge or interest in it.

Astolfo grinned and slapped down their last card with a fit of giggles. “I win! Again!”

“...Eh? It’s over?” Okita blearily blinked, but she threw her cards down without complaint. She looked more content resting her head against the arm of the sofa than she did playing.

Karna hung his head. “My performance is lacking. I apologize, master.”

“Ah, why? Karna, it’s just a game…” Ritsuka rubbed the back of her head as dejection filled the air. Only Astolfo seemed happy with the results, and Mordred couldn’t help but wonder if they’d pulled in the servants they did for the game on purpose.

Mordred snorted. If she were playing, it’d be a different story.

“Oh? Sir Mordred? Do you want to play?”

Mordred nearly jumped out of her skin. She sprang to her feet and automatically barred her teeth at whoever had spoken, a man dressed in a fine black coat with slicked back hair.

...Sherlock, if she remembered correctly.

“I was just passing by!” she snapped.

“Is that so?” A grin slowly spread over Sherlock’s features. “That’s strange. How can you be ‘just passing by’ if you’re sitting down? I was under the impression that you needed to be standing or walking to make a lie such as that even somewhat believable.”

“You—?!”

“Oh, Mo?”

Mordred nearly jumped out of her skin, again, when Ritsuka’s head popped out from around the corner.

“Ah, Sherlock too? Is something wrong, you two?” she asked, brushing a lock of strawberry blonde hair behind one ear.

“Sir Mordred wants to play too, I suspect,” Sherlock said happily.

Mordred growled at him. “If you don’t mind your own business, I’m going to make you pay.”

“Ah, now now… Mo, if you want to play, you could’ve just said so. Okita doesn’t really seem all that interested in actually playing, and I think Karna has better uses of his time…”

“I’m not interested,” she huffed, crossing her arms. Even if Ritsuka was slightly less annoying than everyone else in Chaldea, she wasn’t interested in getting chummy with the fake Bedivere, who showed no signs of bowing out of the game.

“Oh, very ‘tsun!’ You’ve got the attitude down pat!” Yet another head peered around the corner, this one belonging to a grinning Astolfo.

Mordred’s eyebrow twitched. “What did you call me?! Tsun?! What the hell is that?!”

“Come now, it’s elementary,” Sherlock said, a line corny enough that she half-suspected he was messing with her. “You want to play, so you should play.”

“Ah… Sir Mordred, if my presence is what is making you uncomfortable, then I will happily depart.” Damn it, now even Bedivere had arrived. Only Okita and Karna had stayed back, neither really seeming to pay much attention.

It was a small blessing. If even one more person showed up to crowd her, Mordred was going to lose it.

“Ah… Sir Mordred, are you sure you don’t want to play?” Mash’s voice was soft, slightly less grating than everyone else’s for some reason, but it was still enough to tip the scales.

“Enough!” She started forwards, someone nearly jumping to get out of her way as her boots rang against the flooring. She didn’t pay attention to who. She wanted to punch something, and it was probably best it wasn’t Ritsuka.

No one tried to follow her, thankfully.

-/-/-

She retreated to her room. Luckily enough for her, the walk was long enough to give her time to cool her head, so by the time she locked herself away in her room, she at least didn’t feel like breaking everything anymore.

In fact, once in her room, she simply fell onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. With no mission and no one she wanted to spar with, it was about as good a waste of time as any. She wasn’t sure how long she laid there until she got bored enough to spring to her feet and pace, which wasn’t too much better, but at least she was moving.

And then someone knocked.

Only one person ever visited her room, so she walked to her door and opened it without a thought. The words were half out of her mouth before her brain was able to catch up with the sight before her. “Master, if it’s about the card game, then—”

She froze at the sight of white armor.

Bedivere raised his hands, an apologetic look already on his face. “Many servants were worried about you, and Master asked me to come. I’m the one who handled disputes between members of the round table, after all, though I feel I may have been a poor choice regardless… You have my sincerest apologies.”

“I haven’t even said anything and you’re already apologizing,” she groaned. “For a fake, you’re just as annoying as the Bedivere I know.”

Bedivere dipped his head. “Again, you have my regret. I will try to be less grating in the future.”

“Just shut up,” she snapped, stepping away from the door and crossing her room until she was able to sit on the bed. She left the door open, and this only left Bedivere to stand confused in the doorway.

“...Sir Mordred?”

“Get in here,” she ordered. “I’m curious, so you’re answering my questions.”

His eyes, as forest green as her father’s, widened ever so slightly before he complied. He didn’t quite seem to know where to sit or what to do, so he just stopped walking and stood there. “I will gladly answer any of your questions…”

“Just quit being so polite and sit somewhere. You’re making me twitchy just watching you.”

“...Very well.” He didn’t dare sit next to her on the bed, and her room had no desk or extra chairs, so he simply sat on the floor where he was standing.

It wasn’t the worst move. Mordred had to admit, a part of her liked feeling taller than him for once.

“Specifically, you said you weren’t the Bedivere I know, but you’re still a Bedivere, aren’t you? That’s not a lie?” she started.

“...In one way of thinking, that would be correct.”

Already feeling a headache coming on, she rubbed her temples. This was sounding like it was going to be a complicated explanation. “Just explain it in as few words as you can manage.”

“In short, I come from ‘somewhere else.’ I only kind of understood Merlin’s explanation myself, but think of it as another world where everything is very similar, but some minor details may be different. I wandered in from this other world into Avalon, where I met your world’s Merlin.”

“Oh, fuck.” She groaned. “No wonder this is complicated and messed up. What the hell did that dick wizard do now?”

Bedivere only gave her a small, forced laugh. “The situation can’t really be blamed on him… My situation before arriving at Avalon was due entirely to my own failings. He gave me the chance to make amends, so I am nothing but grateful to him.”

She kind of wanted to argue against any statement that praised or defended Merlin, just on principal, but for once she refrained. It’d only get them off-topic, anyway, and she didn’t want to waste time on that dick wizard of all people. “Well? What happened after?”

“Ah… Master has already explained the singularities to you, correct? I hear you were summoned without the memories from the versions of you that were encountered within them.”

“Yeah, but I got the gist.” Mordred waved off-handedly. “Someone used grails to fuck around with the timelines and destroy all of humanity, but Master and a bunch of servants time traveled to stop it. I showed up in one, helped them fight, yadda yadda. About right?”

“You were in three, technically speaking,” Bedivere replied with a small smile. “But that’s not relevant… If you don’t remember, that might be for the best. The singularity I went to was the sixth one in the Grand Order, and that’s where I met Master. And, well… The person before you is the Bedivere from another world that wandered into that singularity and died within it. The Bedivere you knew lacked the qualifications to ascend to the Throne of Heroes, but for some reason…”

“When you died in the singularity, you ended up in it rather than the Bedivere I know,” Mordred concluded, turning around the events on her head. They actually weren’t too hard to understand, but had it been Merlin or even some of the other Round Table Knights explaining it, she had no doubt she’d have been lost. Maybe she should’ve been vocal about getting Bedivere to be the one to explain things… Assuming he wasn’t as lost as she was.

He gave her a strained smile, despite the fact she hadn’t put any venom into her words. “I apologize. I’m not sure why the Throne of Heroes decided to acknowledge my actions, especially since they took place within a time that no longer exists. I don’t feel I deserve the honor.”

“Really?” She snorted and hopped off the bed, specifically so she could clap him on the shoulder and nearly knock him over. “Come on, if even the fucking universe acknowledged you, don’t hang your head in shame! You don’t seem all that different to me, but hey, since you’re not the Bedivere I know, I won’t hold his weak ass against you.”

He blinked up at her with a bewildered expression. “Sir Mordred… You’re trying to comfort me?”

“What?” She froze, but she quickly recovered enough to huff and cross her arms. “I’m just stating facts. There’s nothing wrong with acknowledging a fellow Heroic Spirit. Getting in the Throne of Heroes is no small feat!”

“You have a point.” Bedivere smiled. “It makes it a wonder… Every Knight of the Round made it except for me, originally. I was truly blessed with good comrades. Each possessed talent and skills beyond their years and a noble soul…” At that, he seemed to catch her frown, and he wisely shifted topics. “But I must apologize to you again, Mordred. I came here to make sure you were alright, but we’ve only talked about me. I ended up the one disheartened, as well…”

Mordred sighed. This man… He was even more self-deprecating than the original Bedivere, and that was a feat in and of itself. “Just cut it out, I’m not interested in your apologies. I was the one who asked you about it in the first place, so I don’t even get what you’re sorry for.”

“Ah… A good point,” Bedivere admitted. “Mordred, if I may say…”

She waved. At this point, she was in a good enough mood to humor him. “Whatever it is, spit it out.”

“You seem calmer now. Something about you has definitely grown from when we were both alive… May I ask about your experiences as a servant? Or at least, what you remember of them?”

She groaned, letting herself fall to the floor and her back hit the bed as she sprawled out on the floor in front of him. Her armor clanked as she did so, giving her the urge to dismiss it, but… Maybe later.

“What’s to say?” She tilted her head up towards the ceiling, just so she wouldn’t have to look at him as she spoke. What she was about to say was going to be a bit embarrassing, after all. “I met a cool guy, when I fought a grail war. His name was Sisigou. He was… a father who’d lost his daughter, and he was fighting to wish for her back. He helped me to realize… That was all I wanted.”

“...If you don’t mind my asking, then what—”

The moment she waved, his voice abruptly cut out. “I didn’t want to be King. I wanted… A father who wanted me by his side. I saw that perfect king sitting on a lonely throne, and when I learned I was his son… I thought I could share in that burden with him. That’s all I wanted, but I lost sight of that when he rejected me... Nah, that’s just an excuse. I didn’t know myself well enough to even realize that’s what I wanted at the time. I was just lashing out blindly and trying to prove myself and earn his acceptance in all the wrong ways.”

Bedivere was silent at that, so much so that Mordred finally sat up to look at him. His clear green eyes were free of the judgement she’d been expecting, only betrayed a sense of understanding that Bedivere, the most loyal dog of King Arthur, certainly shouldn’t have for the Knight of Treachery.

“What?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

He shook his head and flashed a smile. “Ah… No. I was just thinking.”

“Well, do I have to beat it out of you or what?”

“Oh… No, that won’t be necessary.” He paused for a moment, seemingly to gather his thoughts. “On my journey… I learned of our King’s flaws, that calling him perfect is not quite accurate.”

Mordred blinked. Coming from Bedivere of all people, the words almost sounded like blasphemy. Of all the knights, he was the only one to never leave King Arthur’s side. Right up until the end, he was by his king’s side. “You’re serious?”

“Of course,” he replied. “He was a king before he was a person. That was true in all matters. My actions… led to the loss of his human heart within the singularity. He acted without compassion, and while he was more extreme than the king you might be familiar, he was still our king. Perhaps this was why most of the knights left. It’s difficult to relate to someone who puts being a king before all else—before all emotion.”

“What? So you’re now enlightened that King Arthur wasn’t all that?” Something about that irritated her. Much as she loved to throw abusive words at the king’s memory to vent her own frustration, she hated hearing others do it. And to hear it from Bedivere was almost worse.

He shook his head. “My personal feelings on him remain unchanged. He is, without a doubt, my king. He always will be, and I always serve him, but... He is human. No human exists without flaws, and on my journey… I was somewhat relieved to finally learn of his.”

“Why?”

“That was why I chose to serve him, after all.” At that, Bedivere smiled. “I saw him as the perfect king, and I knew that serving him was the right thing to do. But I also wanted to learn of the person behind that perfect king, as selfish a desire as that was.”

She snorted, leaning back against the bed again. “So even Bedivere can have a selfish desire, huh?”

“Indeed. After all, I’m human as well.”

Despite herself, she felt a grin split her features. “That you are…” Abruptly, she sat up again and stuck out her balled fist towards Bedivere.

From his reaction, he must have thought she was about to punch him, but when her fist only hung in the air between them, he stared at it with eyes clouded in confusion. “...Sir Mordred?”

“It’s a fist bump,” she said proudly. “Have they not shown you that yet? Come on, come on! You’re supposed to lightly punch it back. It’s a sign of kinship between bros.”

“...Bros? As in brothers?”

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’ve been in the modern era longer than me and you’re still this behind. It means what it means. We’re bros now, don’t overthink it.”

“Well, then… I supposed it is no different than the brotherhood shared by knights. I’ll consider it an honor.” Leave it to Bedivere to make even this stuffy. Slowly, he balled his own fist and lightly bumped hers. She grinned and clapped him on the shoulder again, to which he only smiled in accommodation.

It wasn’t a bad feeling.

Okay so, maybe Bedivere wasn’t the only one who had good comrades. She had them, as well. At least, she had a good bro.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhhhhhh I had a lot of fun with this ;~; All the servants who appear are generally based on who I actually have in my chaldea (I recently pulled Mordred too ;~;) I've already started drafting a second part for this, so it may turn into a series, but then again I am writing for a lot of fandoms right now, so it might be a minute
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


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